


Exploration

by Balder12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balder12/pseuds/Balder12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel explores Dean's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploration

Castiel was still in his shirt sleeves, cuffs rolled back to the elbow. Dean was lying naked on the bed, looking a little uncomfortable with the whole situation.  
  
“Remind me why I agreed to this?” he said as Castiel sat down next to him.  
  
“Because I’m happy to let you do whatever you want with my vessel, and this is the only ‘sexual favor’ I’ve ever asked for,” Castiel said. He didn’t really understand the concept of a sexual ‘favor.’ The term implied something burdensome and unpleasant. He didn’t think that what he wanted qualified.  
  
“Right, that.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay. I still think you’re weird, but what else is new.”  
  
Sex with Dean was always fast and hard. He threw Castiel against walls, into the backseats of cars, and onto beds, an irresistible force made of grabbing hands and hungry mouth, of  _hot_  and  _more_  and  _now_. Castiel would never change that about Dean, had grown to love it, but he wanted time to learn the subtleties of Dean’s body, to enjoy it without the pressure of Dean’s frantic pace forcing him on. Dean had been surprisingly reluctant when Castiel suggested it. He was usually game for anything, but he’d been almost shy. He’d muttered something about how he didn’t like to be the center of attention, and how certain creepy voyeur angels were always staring a hole in him, anyway.  
  
Still, for all Dean’s protesting, he was half-hard already. Castiel lay down next to him and wrapped a hand around Dean’s cock. He stroked it slowly, feeling it stretch and expand in his grasp.  It became feverishly hot as it filled out. Dean’s breath came harsher. Castiel took his hand away.  
  
Dean’s huff of frustration was cut off by Castiel’s mouth. Dean’s lips parted for him in a sigh, and Castiel licked his way inside. He tasted the remnants of whiskey in the hidden places behind his back teeth. Dean’s tongue pressed back, slick and eager. For the next few minutes they kissed quick, needy, and demanding; they kissed slow, soft, and deep. They only touched where their lips met, consciousness centered in that one small point of contact.  
  
Castiel could have gone on for hours, but he pulled back, finally, teeth tugging at Dean’s swollen bottom lip one last time before he started to travel downward. Gently, at first, he kissed Dean’s neck, giving a light press of lips against his pulse. He could feel it gathering speed, Dean’s excitement an ever-accelerating rhythm. He sucked at the spot where his lips lingered, and sensed when the delicate capillaries burst underneath skin. The human body could absorb this tiny damage without pain, Castiel knew. Indeed, Dean tipped his head back to give Castiel better access, his fingers digging into the bedspread.  
  
Castiel moved further down, to the thumb-sized indentation at the bottom of Dean’s throat, and sucked again. The skin was warmer now, Dean’s blood rising to the surface. Castiel knew he’d picked a particularly sensitive spot, and sure enough Dean twisted and grabbed his hair, pressing him against it. Castiel lifted Dean’s hands away and pressed them back down by his sides. Dean was supposed to be lying still.  
  
Castiel lifted his head and asked, “Why there?”  
  
“The hell should I know?” Dean asked unsteadily. The place where Castiel’s lips had been was red and wet. It would turn purple later. Dean’s fair skin bruised easily. Castiel wasn’t sure that he should think that it also bruised  _beautifully_ , but he did.  
  
The puckered, pink skin around the nipples was already partly erect. Castiel lapped at one, and felt it stiffen further. He took it between his teeth and tugged gently, looking for the exact tipping point in the pleasure-pain threshold. Dean winced and Castiel released him, giving a soothing lick before moving on to the other.  
  
“The left is more sensitive than the right,” Castiel said, and ran his forefinger idly around the taut skin of Dean’s left nipple. “Is that common?”  
  
Dean gave a shaky laugh. “No one would test this crap but you.” Castiel thought that was strange, given how much of their lives humans devoted to sex.  
  
He inched lower. The skin that stretched across Dean’s ribs was thinner and softer than the skin on his chest. He’d started to sweat, and a barely perceptible sheen glimmered across his sides and belly. He tasted like salt wherever Castiel touched his tongue. Castiel scraped his nails down Dean’s ribs, and he jumped. “Ticklish,” he gasped, seeming embarrassed. Castiel’s vessel didn’t have that response. He tried it again.  
  
“Don’t,” Dean said. “Seriously.” He seemed to mean it, so Castiel moved on.  
  
He reached Dean’s hipbone, and bit down. Dean groaned, and his hips thrust up. The mark left by Castiel’s teeth was a neat pair of half moons, entirely different from the marks left by suction. Castiel could smell the raw, animal scent of Dean’s arousal, and he was acutely aware of Dean’s erection, an inch away from his mouth. He wanted to touch it. But it wasn’t time for that yet.  
  
He pressed a kiss into the fold of skin at the base of Dean’s inner thigh, and then sucked a bruise there. It was even more delicate than the skin at Dean’s throat. Dean spasmed, his hands working in the bedspread. He followed the rules, though, and stayed agonizingly still.  
  
Castiel worked his way lower, sucking kisses along Dean’s inner thigh. Dean thrashed in frustration as Castiel moved further away from his cock, breath catching.  
  
When Castiel reached Dean’s feet it struck him that, for all the things they’d done, he’d never touched this part of Dean before. He sucked the toes into his mouth, curiously, and Dean whimpered low in his throat. He wrapped his tongue around each toe in turn, while Dean squirmed, and then licked a path down the arch of each foot.  
  
“You’re a kinky bastard, you know that?” Dean asked.  
  
“No,” Castiel said. He didn’t even know what it meant.  
  
He pressed a kiss to the inside of Dean’s ankle, and worked his way back up the other leg, until his head came to rest on Dean’s thigh. Dean’s cock was pressed against his stomach now, a bead of precome glistening at the tip. Castiel was close enough that when he blew on it, it jumped slightly. He let his tongue trace the vein that ran along the underside. He could feel the pounding pulse just beneath the surface. Dean gave a full body shiver.  
  
“Come  _on_ ,” Dean hissed, almost to himself. “Please.” Castiel wrapped his lips around the tip and sucked the precome away, considering its salty-bitter taste. He held still, and let the irregular, uncontrollable jerk of Dean’s hips gradually press it up into his mouth. Only then did he suck on it, slowly, his tongue caressing the underside. Dean grabbed his hair and thrust up, desperate. Castiel pulled Dean’s hands away and pressed them firmly back into the mattress.  
  
Dean groaned incredulously when Castiel released his cock and lay down next to him again. A flush had bloomed along Dean’s stomach, spreading over his chest and up through his neck, where it was a pale pink against the deeper shade of the newly formed bruises there. His mouth was blood red and swollen. Castiel slipped one hand down to wrap loosely around Dean’s cock, still wet and shiny with saliva, and with the other he cupped Dean’s balls. They were tight, and tightened further as Castiel lightly scratched his nails across them.  
  
Dean breathed like he was climbing a mountain. His tongue darted out and licked his lips unconsciously. Castiel kissed him. Dean’s mouth was hotter and wetter this time, and Castiel could taste the hormonal shift that came with peak arousal. Dean seemed to have surrendered the idea that he could do anything to force Castiel to hurry along. He just parted his lips further and let Castiel’s tongue explore. The cock in Castiel’s hand twitched.  
  
He kissed Dean’s damp hairline, the sweat that had gathered there clinging to his lips. He licked the hot edge of Dean’s ear. He could hear the blood rustling fast, just beneath the surface.  
  
“You’re close to orgasm,” he observed.  
  
“You  _think_?” Dean panted.  
  
“What are you thinking, right now?” Castiel asked. He’d always regretted that Dean wouldn’t let him read his mind during sex.  
  
“How much I hate . . .” Dean paused as his breath caught in his throat, “ . . . freaking angelic detachment.”  
  
“What are you really thinking?”  Castiel insisted.  
  
Dean fixed his eyes on Castiel’s face. The pupils were blown wide. “I’m thinking,” Dean ground out, “of dragging you down to the floor by your hair and forcing my cock down your throat. I’m thinking of throwing you over this bed and fucking you until you beg me for . . .”  
  
That thought did it. Dean’s muscles locked, and the flush across his body darkened in an upward wave. His eyelids drooped. His breath stopped, and his parted lips were silent. His balls clenched and, as Castiel stroked them, kept clenching. Come spilled over his fist, warm and sticky.  
  
Dean sank back into the mattress, drained. Castiel contemplated the come on his hand and then swiped his tongue across it. He saw the heat in Dean’s eyes when he did it, and licked his hand clean. He lapped up the remnant on Dean’s stomach and Dean made a pained sound as a last feeble spurt was dragged out of him.  
  
He pulled Dean’s limp form against his chest. The heat under his hands gradually cooled as Dean came down.  
  
“You want . . . ?” Dean murmured, and pressed his hand against Castiel’s erection. He fumbled with the zipper, awkward and sluggish. Dean’s insomnia left him permanently sleep-deprived. Sex was one of the few things guaranteed to drug him into unconsciousness. He was half-gone already.  
  
Castiel gently pushed his hand away. “I want you to rest,” he said. He liked it when Dean fell asleep after sex. It meant that he got to lie with Dean for a while. Otherwise, Dean was up and dressed in minutes, always ready to move on to the next thing on the agenda.  
  
“Man, you don’t need me to get you off after that, you’re really not human.”  
  
“No,” Castiel agreed, “I’m not.” And maybe his sexual feelings really were different from a human’s, because he enjoyed the way he felt right now. Every sense burned brighter, every place he touched Dean was sharp and specific. He felt grounded in this body and this moment in a way he seldom did. He wasn’t ready for it to be over just yet.  
  
“Besides, I think you mentioned something about making me beg.”  
  
He felt Dean’s lips curve into a smile against his throat. “Not all of us have superpowers. It may be a while before I’m up for that.”  
  
Castiel smiled back, and held Dean closer. “I can wait.”  
  
  



End file.
